34.

  Faelwen

  I followed Spook out onto the secluded patio behind the inn, where the scent of damp earth and trailing ivy filled the air. The high brick walls, almost entirely swallowed by creeping vines and wild blossoms, created the illusion of an enchanted courtyard, as if nature itself had tried to reclaim the space.

  A small tree stood in the back, its branches swaying gently, whispering secrets to the wind. Nearby, a stone bench rested beside a fishpond, the water rippling with the occasional daring shadow of a fish.

  The sky hung low and heavy with the promise of rain. Summer had begun its slow retreat, leaving behind the crisp scent of early autumn. I tilted my head up, studying the thick clouds with a dubious frown.

  “Do you think it’ll stay dry?”

  Spook followed my gaze, squinting slightly.

  “For now,” he said. Then he turned, fixing me with a sharp look. “Do you remember where we left off last lesson?”

  I nodded, glancing down at my feet.

  “Footwork.” The word came with a flood of memories, of countless hours training under Thalor’s watchful eye, of Gwen’s warm encouragement. A pang of worry gripped me. Were they safe? But then, Thalor had been a King’s Guard once. If anyone could handle danger, it was him.

  My moment of reflection was abruptly and quite literally swept away. In an instant, my feet were gone from under me, and I crashed onto my back with a force that knocked the breath from my lungs.

  “Spook!” I gasped, glaring up at him. “What the hell was that for?”

  He stood over me, arms crossed, an infuriatingly smug grin plastered on his face.

  “Always pay attention, little fox. That was lesson one.”

  Oh, how I wanted to wipe that smirk right off his face. I sprang to my feet, snatching up my sword, though, in truth, it was more an elongated dagger Ash had once given me.

  Unlike Elora, who wielded her longsword with effortless grace, I had neither the height nor the strength to manage such a weapon. And on top of that I had unfortunately lost my sword in the Marshes that was given to me by Thalor.

  Spook was ready. He met my strike with ease, his own dagger flashing as he parried. I pivoted, following his movements, matching his rhythm. Blow after blow, we danced in the courtyard, our blades ringing in sharp harmony.

  “If you bite your lip one more time, I’m going to do it for you,” Spook teased, dodging my next strike. I felt my cheeks redden. I hadn’t even realized I’d been biting my lip in concentration. Quickly, I stopped.

  “Shut up, I’m focusing,” I shot back.

  Spook chuckled, but his breathing had grown heavier. I turned again, my blade flashing inches from his face.

  “You nearly had me there.”

  I grinned.

  “What can I say? I’m a dangerous woman.”

  He laughed outright.

  “You’re about as intimidating as a butterfly.”

  I sneered, lunging at him with renewed determination. This time, my strike found its mark, landing a solid hit to his side with the pummel of my dagger. He grunted, faltering for half a second before recovering and parrying my next attack.

  Then, out of nowhere, he asked, “Ever tried using your magic while fighting?”

  I hesitated, struggling to keep up with his footwork as I responded.

  “No, never consciously.”

  Spook stopped, lowering his dagger. I let out a breath, lowering my own weapon, grateful for the brief reprieve.

  “Why don’t you give it a try?” he asked. I blinked at him.

  “I wouldn’t even know how. When I used magic before there was danger and I had no choice. But now…”

  Spook arched a brow.

  “I thought you’d been practicing every morning with Ash. Or…” his lips curved into a wicked grin. “Have you been doing other, dirtier things?”

  I jabbed him in his side again with the pommel of my dagger, and he doubled over, laughing.

  “Oh, you want magic?” I challenged him. “Fine. I’ll show you magic.” I reached deep, calling upon the energy woven into the world around me. The air tingled against my skin as I shaped my intent, imagining a gust of wind roaring through the courtyard.

  A second later, the breeze obeyed, surging forward with enough force to topple the stone bench. I turned to Spook with a triumphant grin. He only scoffed, waving a hand dismissively.

  “Pff… That was nothing. I bet you can do more than that.” His eyes gleamed with challenge. “I dare you.”

  A dare? Oh, he had no idea who he was dealing with. I inhaled deeply, turning toward the ivy-covered wall. Gathering my focus, I murmured the incantation under my breath, calling forth a spell of storm and lightning.

  The heavy clouds above churned in response, crackling with raw energy. I lifted my hand, pointed a single finger at the wall, and let the storm answer.

  A blinding bolt of lightning split the air. Thunder roared as the wall exploded outward, stone and ivy alike disintegrating into a cloud of smoke and fire.

  The courtyard fell eerily silent in the aftermath. My stomach dropped. Slowly, I turned back to Spook, who stared wide-eyed at the gaping hole where the wall had once been.

  “…Do you think they’ll notice?” I asked, my voice small. Spook’s incredulous gaze snapped to me, his expression a mixture of disbelief and exasperation.

  “No, little fox. I’m sure they wouldn’t have heard THE GIANT THUNDERCLAP, and if they come looking for the source of that ungodly noise, I’m positive they won’t see THE MASSIVE GAPING HOLE IN THE WALL.” His voice rose with each word, gesturing wildly at the destruction.

  “Don’t yell at me!” I protested. “You dared me. This is your fault.”

  Spook barked a laugh. “My fault? You’re the one who blew up the damn wall!”

  “YOU DARED ME!”

  His ocean coloured blue eyes flashed with warning.

  “Yell at me again, little fox, and I’ll give you a real reason to scream.”

  Goosebumps rose on my skin. For the first time in a long while, I caught a glimpse of the dangerous, shadowed rogue I had first met at the inn. The one who had been more wolf than man.

  “…Fine,” I muttered. “But what are we going to do about this?”

  Right on cue, the door to the inn slammed open. Ash and Elora stormed into the courtyard, the innkeeper hot on their heels. Ash’s gaze flicked to the ruined wall, then back to us. His brow rose.

  “Care to explain?” he asked, far too calmly. Spook rubbed the back of his head, looking anywhere but at Ash.

  “I think we have a problem,” I said.

  Ash folded his arms. “You think?”

  The innkeeper, grumbling in Elvish, gestured at the wreckage.

  “Do these two belong to you?”

  Ash pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  Elora, ever the diplomat, stepped in.

  “We’ll pay for the damage,” she assured the innkeeper, leading him away to discuss the cost. Ash exhaled sharply, turning back to us.

  “Inside. Now.”

  I glanced at Spook, trying, and failing, not to smile.

  “I’m dangerous.”

  Spook barely contained his laughter.

  “Yeah, you are.”

  Ash shot us a withering look. Like two scolded children, we quickly dropped our grins and followed him inside, doing our best to look appropriately remorseful. But deep down, I couldn’t help but think… that had been awesome.

  ? ? ?

  Ash

  After the morning’s disastrous incident with the wall, Faelwen and I finally set out for the library. The streets of the city glistened under the afternoon rain, cobblestones slick with silver, reflecting the muted light of the overcast sky.

  The scent of damp earth and distant hearth smoke curled through the air, wrapping around us like a lingering ghost of autumn’s approach.

  Artemis, against all expectations, had opted to stay behind at the inn, huddled by the fire like some spoiled housecat. I shook my head at the thought. A wolf, yet unwilling to step foot into the rain? Sometimes, I truly wondered if he was a wolf at all.

  Faelwen had conjured a protective veil of magic above us, an unseen barrier shielding us from the downpour. The rain parted around us, falling in hushed whispers to either side, leaving us dry as we walked through the drenched streets.

  For a time, we moved in silence, the rhythmic patter of raindrops filling the void between us. But I could no longer keep my frustration buried beneath the surface.

  “Next time you decide to test your magic,” I said, my voice sharper than intended, “make sure I’m there.”

  Faelwen flinched slightly but nodded.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “I mean it, Wen.”

  At that, she finally looked up, her deep, luminous eyes filled with guilt.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, barely above a whisper.

  “Sorry won’t fix the damn wall,” I sighed, coming to an abrupt halt. Before she could look away, I reached out, cupping her chin gently but firmly, tilting her face toward mine.

  “It could’ve been you who got hurt.” My anger bled through my words, thick with unspoken fear.

  “But I didn’t…” she began, her voice fragile.

  “But you could have, Wen!” I cut in, my grip tightening slightly as I pulled her closer, my frustration pouring through me like wildfire.

  “Just don’t do that again.”

  She gave a small, obedient nod, and I exhaled, releasing her with a reluctant sigh.

  “Next time, I won’t be so forgiving.”

  Her eyes widened slightly, but then, like the shift of a breeze, her lips curled into that mischievous little smirk I knew all too well. The storm in my chest softened.

  “Don’t make me chastise you, little troublemaker,” I teased, my voice losing its edge. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  We pressed on through the rain-drenched streets until the towering silhouette of the library loomed before us, its grand stone arched and ivy-clad walls standing resolute against the dark storm.

  Inside, the world was hushed, cocooned in the solemn stillness of parchment and ink. The only sound was the rhythmic drumming of raindrops against the rooftops, a steady whisper above the silence.

  The scent of aged paper and candle wax filled the vast chamber. Rows of towering bookshelves created long shadows on the floor. The large windows that were open last time, we’re now closed. And strange yellow orbs lightened up the interior.

  A cleric, the same one who had led us to Aelwyn Sylvarin before, approached with a quiet yet inquisitive gaze. His robes adorned with intricate silver embroidery, shimmering faintly in the strange light as he regarded us with curiosity.

  “Can I help you?” he asked in Elvish, his voice lilting like a song woven into the air. The language of my blood. A melody both familiar and distant, wrapped in the ache of a home I never truly belonged to.

  Even now, it carried the weight of exile, of whispered accusations, of a family that had spent their days fleeing because we were never meant to exist according to our lords.

  “Yes,” I replied, steadying my voice. “We seek knowledge. Records of pacts made with otherworldly beings.”

  The cleric studied me for a brief moment before inclining his head in understanding. He gestured toward the vast main hall, his fingers delicate yet precise.

  “The library is open to all seekers of wisdom. Arcane tomes can be found in the second-to-last section at the end of the hall.”

  I murmured my thanks before moving forward, Faelwen close behind.

  As we entered the deeper recesses of the library, the air grew thicker with the weight of forgotten knowledge. Shadows danced across dark wooden tables, cast by flickering light that radiated from the strange floating orbs in the air.

  Despite a lone cleric on one of the tables, I didn’t spot any other clerics. The cleric sat hunched over a lengthy parchment, scribbling furiously in the dim glow. I turned to Faelwen, my voice hushed but firm.

  “We should start searching. Anything even vaguely related, grab it. We’ll sort through them at that table.” I nodded toward an empty table. She gave a silent nod before slipping away, vanishing between towering shelves like a whisper on the wind.

  I made my way to the next aisle, fingers trailing along the worn spines of countless books. Some were bound in supple leather, their titles etched in delicate silver script. Others were brittle, their pages yellowed with time, holding secrets older than the cities we walked upon.

  The sheer depth of arcane knowledge here was staggering. This library was the second-largest in the Fae Lands, what the humans of the Ancestral Region called the Primordial Lands.

  No humans lived here. Only the foolishly, curious adventurers who dared cross the mountains. Like my mother once had. The thought struck like a blade in my stomach.

  She had come here as an adventurer and had found my father in a city where no human should have lingered. For a time, they built a life together. A life that was stolen the moment the Lord and Lady of the city decided half-bloods had no place among them.

  The disappearances had begun quietly. Humans and half-elves vanishing in the night. Some were arrested on the most trivial charges, like missing a single tax payment. Others simply… ceased to exist.

  The night the guards came for us, a neighbour had given warning. We fled beneath the shroud of darkness, leaving behind everything we had ever known, seeking refuge in the Ancestral Region.

  But even there, we were not safe.

  I forced the memories away. The cold ghost of grief still clawed at my throat, the ache of my mother’s and sister’s deaths an unhealed wound, but I could not linger in the past. Not now. Not when there was work to be done.

  Exhaling a slow breath, I refocused. My hands moving once more over the tomes. There were answers hidden in these pages. And I would find them.

  After a few minutes of shifting through the endless shelves, my arms were weighed down by a collection of thick tomes bound in dark leather.

  One book took my interest in particular. From the outside it looked like an old spellbook. But at the touch the book almost felt alive. I hid it in between the collection of thick tomes I found and made my way back to the large wooden table where Faelwen had already begun assembling a small stack of books… on the wrong table. I rolled my eyes, looking around for her, though she was nowhere in sight.

  I sighed and decided to leave it, setting my findings beside hers and sliding into a chair across from the only other occupant; the lone cleric. A hunched, silver-haired elf, lost in his own world of ink and parchment.

  The soft glow of the orbs flickered over his weathered features, casting deep shadows along the creases of his face. Every so often, I caught him glancing up, his gaze flitting over the titles I was scanning before flickering back to his own work.

  The next time our eyes met, he grinned. A lopsided, gap-toothed grin, the kind that belonged to someone who had seen too much of the world and yet still found amusement in it. I frowned.

  “You seem invested in an interesting topic, young man,” he mused, his voice warm, unexpectedly youthful, carrying the smooth cadence of old elven melodies.

  I studied him warily. Older elves were rare. Most retained their youthful features for centuries, but some, for reasons unknown, bore the weight of time more visibly. He was one of them. Though he looked no older than seventy in human years, his sharp gaze told another story. One of wisdom far beyond the reach of ordinary mortals.

  “Just studying,” I replied casually, turning back to my book.

  “Hmh… I’d say the same thing if I were you.” He chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. “But you can’t hide anything from old Nyldor. I’ve roamed this world far too long for that.”

  I paused, fingers hovering over the yellowed pages. There was something in his voice, something that made me hesitate before dismissing him outright. When I met his gaze again, I saw it; an ancient knowing, a depth of power hidden beneath the guise of a harmless old scholar.

  “You work here as a cleric?” I asked, my tone edged with suspicion. He shrugged.

  “For now.” His answer was vague, as if the truth was something too fluid to be pinned down.

  “But you might find my knowledge useful.”

  That piqued my interest.

  “What do you mean?”

  He gestured toward the books.

  “Tell me what you’re searching for, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

  Before I could answer, Faelwen reappeared, depositing another pile of books beside me with a soft thud.

  Her sharp eyes flicked between me and Nyldor, and something in her expression told me she had overheard our conversation. She held my gaze, her look demanding me: Tell him.

  An exquisite shudder ran up my spine. She was pushing her limits again. I narrowed my eyes slightly, sending a pulse through our bond, a mix of amusement and mild irritation, a silent warning: Don’t do it.

  If she noticed, she didn’t react. Instead, she turned back to Nyldor.

  “We’re looking for information about pacts with the Fiend,” she said plainly, defiant as ever. “And especially how to break them.”

  I clenched my jaw, swallowing the flicker of tension that rose in my chest and gave her a stern look.

  You’ll pay for that later. She smiled back at me. Nyldor leaned back in his chair, considering her words. Then, he nodded.

  “Find me a map of the Underworld,” he said. “It will help with the explanation.”

  Faelwen was gone in an instant, disappearing into the maze of bookshelves. I exhaled slowly, then motioned for Nyldor to continue.

  “Pacts with the Fiend,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Tricky business, young man. I don’t know how you got tangled up in one, and frankly, I don’t need to know. But of all the devils and demons lurking in that abyss, you had to deal with him?” He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. “You do have a knack for bad decisions.”

  I scowled.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Nyldor smirked but pressed on.

  “Whenever the Fiend makes a deal, he seals it with powerful magic, binding your soul to his will. Which means that the moment you die, your soul is his. You’ll be dragged to his palace, where he’ll do whatever he damn well pleases with you.”

  “I know,” I grumbled, resisting the urge to rub my temples.

  “Then you also know that breaking the pact isn’t as simple as snapping your fingers. To sever the bond, you need to find your contract. The physical document that holds the magic in place. The Fiend keeps it locked away in the Underworld, in a place called the House of Souls.”

  I stiffened. I had heard of the House of Souls before, whispers carried through the ranks of lesser demons and devils. But it was nothing more than a myth, a ghost story among the damned.

  “No one’s ever found that place,” I said, voice low. “Not even his most trusted advisors.”

  Nyldor’s grin widened.

  “Ah… but that’s where you’re wrong.”

  Before I could press him further, Faelwen returned, carrying a folded parchment. She spread it out before us, revealing a simple, painted map of the Underworld. Nyldor leaned over, studying it carefully before tapping a long, bony finger against a seemingly empty expanse.

  “There.”

  I frowned.

  “There’s nothing there.”

  “Exactly.”

  Faelwen’s brows furrowed.

  “I don’t understand. What’s supposed to be there?”

  “The House of Souls,” Nyldor said simply, his voice laced with quiet pride. I stared at him, my mind racing.

  “How do you know that?”

  He only smiled, eyes twinkling with an amusement I didn’t quite trust.

  “It’s like I said, young man. I know things. Remember my name, if you ever want to find that place.”

  Then he stood, gave a quick, almost theatrical bow, and vanished into the shadows of the library, leaving us in stunned silence. Faelwen’s eyes gleamed with curiosity.

  “What was his name?”

  “Nyldor,” I replied. She tilted her head, her expression shifting from curiosity to something more demanding.

  “Tell me everything.”

  I exhaled slowly, tilting my head as I studied her. A slow smirk played at my lips as I stepped forward, closing the space between us.

  “I’ll tell you everything, my love,” I murmured, my voice dark with promise, “But first… I need to teach you a lesson about sharing our secrets so freely.”

  Faelwen’s smirk deepened. A glint of mischief danced in her eyes as she bit her lower lip, her confidence unwavering.

  “Oh?” She purred, tilting her head in playful defiance. “Well then… come and get me first.” Rising with a deliberate, feline grace, she drifted toward the stack of ancient tomes on the table, her movements fluid.

  As she passed, her fingers brushed lightly against the stack of books, sending one tumbling to the wooden floor with a soft thud. She bent at the waist, slow and purposeful, her back arching as she reached down to retrieve it.

  Every motion was deliberate, each curve of her from a siren’s call. The air between us thickened, the weight of anticipation coiling like a waiting predator. I did not move.

  Not yet.

  I watched, my breath shallow, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. She straightened, cradling the book in her hands, and sauntered toward the shadowed recesses at the back of the library.

  Just before darkness swallowed her whole, she glanced over her shoulder, her gaze locking onto mine with knowing playfulness. Then, with a wink, she darted away after placing the book back on the bookshelf.

  That was my cue.

  I surged after her, soundless and swift, the space between us vanishing in heartbeats. The chase was electric, a primal dance neither of us wanted to end too soon.

  But desire had its own hunger. Just as she veered past a towering bookshelf, I caught her. One arm around her waist, lifting her effortlessly into my grasp. A delighted gasp escaped her lips, followed by the sweetest, breathless laughter.

  She wriggled against me, teasing, testing. My lips found hers, claiming them with a kiss that set fire to the space between us.

  She melted, yet her defiant spirit burned on, her cheeks flushed. She buried her face into the crook of my neck, but I would not let her hide.

  “Blushing already, my love?” I murmured, pressing a kiss to the shell of her ear. “Don’t turn away. It’s okay if you squirm a little at my touch. After all, you’ll be squirming like that beneath me all night when we get back.”

  A shiver ran through her as I pressed her against the wooden shelves, the scent of old parchment and wild lavender wrapping around us. Her gaze met mine, bold and teasing. I kissed her again, my tongue grazing her lips, asking… No. Demanding.

  She yielded, and I took, my hands wandering the contours of her body until they rested firmly at her hips. She pushed against me, her impatience evident in the way her body arched.

  I chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down her spine.

  “Eager, aren’t we?” I whispered.

  She nipped at my lower lip, her own amusement woven into her sighs.

  “And you’re not?” she whispered back.

  I exhaled sharply as her fingers found the growing heat between us, pressing just enough to steal a moan from my throat.

  My control frayed, but I caught her wrists, guiding them above her head, trapping them with one hand as my free hand resumed its exploration. My fingers traced down, slow and teasing, setting her body alight with every touch.

  “We should wait until we’re back at the inn,” I whispered, though even I could hear the war in my voice. She smirked, unrepentant.

  “Should we?”

  I growled softly, my lips skimming her neck as my fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her pants.

  “Alright have it your way. Be quiet, love,” I commanded, my touch sliding lower. “Or they’ll hear us.”

  A muffled whimper escaped her lips as I stroked her, my rhythm gentle, then firm, drawing out every shudder, every bite of her lip. Her body moved against me, meeting each touch with growing need.

  The scent of her desire mingled with the aged scent of books, a contrast so intoxicating it nearly undid me. I fought against the primal urge to tear away the barrier of fabric between us, to take her right there against the shelf, lost in the pleasant thrill of it.

  Her breath hitched as she neared her peak, and I swallowed her moan with a deep, searing kiss. Her body trembled against mine, the tension snapping as she shattered in my arms. She sagged against me, giggling softly, her cheeks stained crimson. I held her close, inhaling her intoxicating scent, savouring the heat of her skin against mine.

  Reluctantly, I guided her back to the now empty table. The cleric had left. I pressed one final kiss to her forehead.

  “We’ll finish this properly later,” I promised, my voice low with lingering hunger. On our way back to the inn, as the night air cooled our flushed skin, I told her of Nyldor’s words, the weight of our quest settling once more between us. We agreed we would find this strange elf again, but only once our task was complete.